


New Toys

by soulshrapnel



Series: new toys [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (unless 3000 words of awkward kink negotiation counts as plot), Age Difference, BDSM, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Multi, Please Do Not Have A Threesome With Darth Vader, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Space Fascist Disaster Boys, Telepathy, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, given as a gift, pain play, weird villain polyamory stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25997746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulshrapnel/pseuds/soulshrapnel
Summary: Natasi Daala has returned to the civilized galaxy only to find it a very different place than when she left it. Her former lover, Wilhuff Tarkin, is no longer a Grand Moff but an Emperor of the galaxy, along with his own new lover and co-Emperor, Darth Vader.But Tarkin is still interested in Daala, and she's willing to try anything to get back in his good graces - even bare herself to a terrifying Dark Lord of the Sith.
Relationships: Natasi Daala/Wilhuff Tarkin/Darth Vader
Series: new toys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983614
Comments: 15
Kudos: 20





	New Toys

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Strike Me Down; I Am Unarmed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110756) by [soulshrapnel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulshrapnel/pseuds/soulshrapnel). 



> This is NOT a canonical part of the "oh my god they were co-emperors" series, but it's based on the same premise. You don't need to know anything about that series to enjoy this. "Vader and Tarkin are kinkily ruling the galaxy together" will suffice.
> 
> Basically I've just wanted an excuse to write a Vader/Tarkin/[consenting female character] threesome since 5ever ago, but it took a while to come up with the right person and scenario.
> 
> For avoidance of doubt, at this point in the series timeline, Daala is in her late twenties.

The Imperial Palace seemed unnecessarily cold and dark as Natasi Daala stepped into it for the first time. How could those stone walls have been painted such a deep black? The only darker things she'd ever seen were the blackness of space and the event horizons of black holes. She suppressed the urge to show unease as she followed Emperor Tarkin's confident stride through its halls, with a passel of aides and Royal Guards at their side.

Daala had landed on Coruscant only five minutes ago, after three years doing Tarkin's bidding from afar at the Maw Installation. She'd been brought up to speed on how things had changed in the galaxy while she was away. When she'd left, Tarkin had been a loyal governor doing diligent work for Emperor Palpatine. In the time since she'd been gone, he had somehow fallen in love with Darth Vader, staged an entire coup, helped _murder_ Palpatine, and become, at Vader's side, one of the co-Emperors of the new regime.

After that, he'd immediately called Daala back to civilization, knowing that there was no one who could punish them for their love affair any longer.

Or at least that was what he'd said. Daala had been puzzling over it, because it implied _Vader_ couldn't punish them.

But she and Tarkin, despite a painfully intense fascination with each other, had never been monogamous. Perhaps Vader wasn't, either. That would solve a great number of problems. She didn't want to get her hopes up too high, after three years alone, but she was hopeful.

Even the mere sight of Tarkin in person again sent shivers through her. The narrow lines in his face, the intelligence in his blue-gray eyes, these were precisely as she remembered. But he'd traded in the gray uniform she'd grown used to for the regalia of a proper Emperor. Not a black robe, like the ones Palpatine had favored, but a complicated layered outfit in blue and white, black and silver. A half-cape trailed from one angular shoulder, and a silver circlet perched lightly on his brow. It was an arresting sight. It was so easy to imagine kneeling before Tarkin in robes like that, being made to kiss a ring or a scepter, and then perhaps brushing those luxurious fabrics away from his slender thighs, pledging fealty in the most intimate ways.

The Royal Guards at their sides prevented any real privacy, so she and Tarkin made Imperially acceptable small talk as they walked through those dark corridors. He asked how her work at the Maw was progressing, and if her flight had gone well. Daala answered politely, scarcely paying attention to what she was saying. She took pride in her work, and she held herself professionally, but it was hard to concentrate. He was right _here,_ so tantalizingly close, and she didn't know for sure yet if she could reach out and take him.

At last Tarkin dismissed the guards, and the two of them came to rest by a round window, looking out over the ecumenopolis. Coruscant never slept, and the city lights were such that it never really darkened at night, only dimmed itself to a vague, cloudy indigo.

"Don't think I don't see you're distracted," he said casually.

"Sir," she said, embarrassed. The proper title for an Emperor was _my lord,_ not _sir,_ but Daala had grown used to calling him this. It was not only a professional title but a pet name of sorts, a way of acknowledging the hold he had over her.

But Tarkin didn't look disappointed at the mistake. He looked amused, and pleased, and... hungry. He looked her over, the way he'd used to, when he was calculating how soon he could find an excuse to take her to some secret room and devour her. "Did you miss me that much?"

"So much, sir." She looked at the crook of his jaw and tried to remember just what it had felt like to put her mouth there. She hadn't wanted to be away these three years. She had obeyed the order, but only under protest.

He raised a hand to his mouth thoughtfully. It was like him to delay gratification, even when they both had been longing for the same things. "You were so angry when you left. I didn't want to get my hopes up."

"Sir, you should have known," she protested. She'd only been angry because she didn't want anything to tear her from Tarkin's side. She'd clung to him the night before she left. No one at the Maw had been even a fraction as interesting as they'd have needed to be, if they'd wanted to make her forget him.

But she knew he was playing a game. Making her confess to what she wanted, and just how badly, before he let her have it. Daala remembered this game. She could play it.

"Well," he said, turning to look out the window and feigning impassiveness. "In that case, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that Vader and I aren't monogamous, just as you and I never were. He and I have already discussed you. Our co-Emperorship comes first, but you and I could still be together. More openly than before, since that no longer carries any risk. He'll allow it."

She looked at him carefully. "And the bad news, sir?"

"Do you remember much of what I've told you about Vader? Or what you've heard from other sources, I suppose."

"Yes, sir." Tarkin and Vader had only become lovers recently, but their working relationship went back much longer. Not only longer than Daala's relationship with Tarkin, but longer than the time Daala had been old enough to understand such things at all. She'd chewed over that fact uneasily on the flight here. Had Vader intruded into her relationship with Tarkin, as her instincts told her he had, taking advantage of the opening her absence created? Or was she the one who'd intruded, from the very first time she'd been with Tarkin, into something that was already latently there?

In any case, Tarkin had a unique knack for dealing with Vader. Daala found that attractive. She had a man so strong that nothing intimidated him, not even Darth Vader himself.

"Many people find him difficult to deal with," said Tarkin, which Daala understood to be an understatement. "And the closer you are to me, in the current circumstance, the more you'll inevitably find yourself in his orbit. I'm not quite sure that won't be rocky at first. In theory, we have Vader's permission; in practice, he struggles with his emotions at times. I think it may take him some time to accept that I'm not abandoning him for you. And until that time, you may find him, well, even more fractious than his usual. I want to be sure I'm not pulling you in to a dynamic you can't handle."

Daala raised her chin. "Sir, with all due respect, if I wasn't comfortable handling fractious and dangerous men, I'd have failed at every form of command. And I wouldn't have fallen for _you._ "

Tarkin smiled. "Point. Well, in that case, I'd like to take you to meet him tonight. It could be as simple as a short conversation. But optionally, if you're comfortable, I did come up with another idea."

"Yes?"

Tarkin turned and studied something just outside the window. "You see, Vader is better with actions than words. He's capable of logic and of cunning - he's not unintelligent - but he prefers to act based on his instincts. I've explained to him in rational words what this means for him and me, and how I can love both of you at once without abandoning him, and so on. But I think he might learn more quickly from a practical demonstration." He glanced at her sideways, mischievous. "How would you feel about a threesome?"

Daala raised her eyebrows, alarmed but intrigued. For the bulk of their relationship, Daala had been Tarkin's secret. She hadn't had much opportunity to meet his other partners, much less join in. She had occasionally had fantasies of doing so, but only in the abstract; nothing he'd told her about the other people in his life had ever truly caught her interest. Compared to Tarkin, most other men were simply boring.

But whatever other words might apply to Darth Vader, Daala couldn't imagine _boring_ did.

"How would that, um, work, sir?" She knew Vader was encased permanently in a life-support suit for health reasons. She couldn't quite imagine him having sex. But presumably he and Tarkin must manage it, somehow.

Tarkin frowned. "I believe Vader considers the _how_ to be a personal question. I'd rather not discuss the details behind his back. It involves the Force; the rest works itself out."

Daala wasn't about to agree to a sex act that she couldn't picture with a man she'd never met. Tarkin himself had taught her better than that. He'd been the one who first explained to her younger self that there was nothing wrong with her for wanting to be used at the whim of cruel and powerful men. There was a name for that, and a whole set of protocols and safety rules. Negotiation was one such rule, and in order to negotiate, she had to understand what was on offer.

"Have you explained your plans to Emperor Vader, sir?" she asked. "Does he approve of them?"

"He was open to the idea, yes."

She looked at him coolly. They were so close, there at the window; she could have reached right out and pressed against him. She had longed to touch Tarkin again for three years. One way or another, she was determined to have that. Even if the best method of doing so was a little bit strange. But she would do it correctly.

"I'm not saying yes," she said. "Not yet. But I'd be willing to meet with him and discuss the matter."

"Good girl. Come here." He smiled with an odd undertone of relief, as if more was riding on this than she knew, and he beckoned. She obeyed automatically, but she didn't fully register what was happening until he gathered her up in his arms.

Tarkin had _never_ allowed public affection before - the risk to her career, if they were discovered, was simply too great. They were alone for the moment, but this was just a palace hallway, and anyone could walk in. But her body responded to his touch before her brain could catch up. She pressed up against him and caught his lips with hers, hungrily, pulling him closer by the waist.

The feel of him overwhelmed her. He was careful and precise in how he kissed, but his hands dug into her - those elegant, long-fingered hands had always been stronger than they looked. His strange robes bunched in her fists, not at all like the stiff fabric of a military uniform. He tasted the way she remembered, warm and clean. She had missed this so much. She thought she might dissolve into a puddle right there in the hallway.

This moment was only for the two of them. Just one brief embrace before they went and found Vader. But even this moment was strange and different and new - and so good. Everything was different now. But maybe that would be all right.

*

There was a bizarre private parlor in the heart of the Imperial Palace. Where the rest of the building had been black and forbidding, this room was pastel and plush, indigo and seafoam, like someone's grandmother had picked it all out. This space reminded her of neither Tarkin nor what she knew of Vader. It must be one of Palpatine's chambers; the new Emperors must not have had time yet to remodel.

The first thing she noticed about Emperor Vader was the sound he made. That steady, inhuman, mechanical breath, louder than it ought to have been. He was sitting in a pastel armchair, looking absurd and out of place, but it was impossible to take the sight of him lightly. The armor, the _size_ of him, the skull-like mask.

Daala was very good at controlling her facial expressions. She kept herself rigidly poised, showing no fear, but for a moment she quailed inside. Did Tarkin actually want her to have sex with _this?_ She could scarcely parse him as a man. Not that there wasn't a certain pleasant symmetry in his design, but he was more like one of those big hulking super-battle droids from vids of the Clone Wars, or like some great carnivorous animal, swathed in shadow and panting for blood.

"Vader," said Tarkin, striding into the room at her side. He seemed completely at ease, as if the creature in the armchair didn't seem strange to him at all. "I have a present for you."

His voice reminded her that there were protocols for this. She unfroze and fell to one knee, genuflecting in a precise, practiced gesture. "My lord."

"Do not kneel," said Vader immediately. His voice was a deep, rich bass which carried easily. "Sit."

He gestured to a lavender couch opposite him, and she obeyed without thinking. This was definitely not Tarkin's furniture, she thought irrelevantly as she sank into the cushions. Too soft.

Tarkin stayed standing for now. He perched next to Vader's chair and watched the two of them closely, with the same careful gaze he would have used to look over an evolving battle map or a fractious room of generals. "This is Admiral Daala. The one I was telling you about. I told her what I'd proposed to you, and she's willing to consider it, pending some negotiation. Shall we?"

This felt slightly gauche. Daala had never had a threesome before, but surely there was supposed to be small talk, some kind of phase where they had dinner or watched vids or something and got to know each other, before they started talking about who was going to fuck whom.

Then again, looking at Emperor Vader and considering what she knew of him, she suspected that small talk would only have made it worse.

Fine. If she was here for one thing, then she'd address that one thing calmly and directly.

Vader looked her up and down. It was hard to tell through that mask of his just what he thought of her. "I have heard a great deal about you, Admiral Daala. Your feelings for my co-Emperor are strong."

"As are yours, I'm told," Daala said. She kept her voice deliberately cool, her face expressionless. "Congratulations on your new position, by the way."

Vader waved that away impatiently. "Let me make one thing clear. Emperor Tarkin is _mine._ He has use of you because I say he does. I knew of you before, but I did not want to deal with your return. I have agreed to do so only for his sake. And this is his attempt to appease me - by offering you up to me, before you had even landed here to have your say, like a sacrifice. I hope for your sake that you will prove to be a pleasing one."

Daala narrowly avoided making any facial expression at this strange speech. "With all due respect, my lord, you can save the intimidating tone for when we're in a scene. If you don't desire this encounter, we need not have one. Otherwise, regardless of our positions in the Empire, the negotiations themselves need to be carried out with respect. Surely Tarkin taught you that much."

Vader turned his head and looked at Tarkin. "She has a backbone."

"I wouldn't have offered her to you if she didn't." Tarkin looked both proud and faintly amused, as if she'd passed some hidden test. "My dear, I'm not convinced it's possible for Vader not to act intimidating. But we can all work together to keep it within tolerable levels. Can't we, Vader?"

Vader stayed fixed on Tarkin as he settled down, after all, into the neighboring chair. "As you wish."

Despite herself, Daala was slightly fascinated. In public, at least in the news vids, Vader and Tarkin presented themselves as two equal co-Emperors. Vader had just spoken as if he was Tarkin's master, with direct control over the boundaries of Tarkin's life. Yet when Tarkin gave a correction and a casual order, Vader obeyed without complaint. Which of them was really in charge?

She had to assume that there was more to the Dark Lord than simple belligerence, or Tarkin would have lost interest in him long ago. But perhaps he was the type who used belligerence as a shield. Perhaps it had taken time and work to get anything else out of him.

"Let me start by explaining what I had in mind," said Tarkin as he made himself comfortable. "This is open to revisions as you two see fit, but I was imagining an improvised scene emphasizing the element of possessiveness. You're mine, and I'm offering you to Vader as a gift for the night. He and I would both play dominant to you, and I'd remain in the room while you were with him, so as to show off to him what you're capable of. I _would_ like sex, and to inflict a bit of pain and restraint, but I don't want to push very hard in those latter two areas; you just got back, after all. No degradation beyond what's inherent in being passed around like this; I'm more interested in teaching Vader to appreciate you."

His tone was even and clipped, as if he was giving military orders, but there was a glint in his eye. Daala had long ago learned to find the signs of desire under Tarkin's stern facade. She could tell that he was imagining this vividly already: not just as a way of appeasing Vader, but as a fantasy he enjoyed. That made Daala feel a tiny bit better. She did love to please him.

And the idea of being shared that way by two dominant men had some appeal. After so long hiding - _literally_ hiding in the far reaches of the galaxy, chafing at the necessity of it - the idea of being put openly on display, even to the point of inviting other people in, contained both a terribly naughty thrill and a strange relief.

But it wasn't enough on its own.

She looked up at Vader. "If we were to do that, my lord, would you want to be involved in the sex, specifically?"

"It would be a waste of my time if I was not," said Vader, tilting his head to look her up and down.

Daala was unimpressed, but she kept her tone of voice polite. "Then can you explain how that would work, given that you're in a life-support suit? Emperor Tarkin says you consider that a private matter, and I don't wish to pry into medical details, but I can't very well consent to something if I don't know what it is."

Vader sounded more amused than offended. "Hold out your hand, Admiral."

She glanced at Tarkin uncertainly, but he did not look concerned, so she extended her hand onto the low table between them, palm up.

Vader reached out reciprocally, his large gloved hand hovering a few inches over hers. He did not touch her. He moved his fingers slightly, as if summoning up some obscure ability in the Force.

A second later, she felt a strange sensation on her palm. It was as vivid as physical touch, though she was sure nothing had touched her. At first it was only a single, gentle stroke, as if from a pair of invisible fingers, and then it spread over the whole surface of her hand, no longer holding a shape she could identify, only a pleasant warm pressure that moved from the heel of her hand all the way up her fingers.

It moved across her, giving a last flourish of perceived movement around the fingertips. Then, instead of withdrawing or fading, it _changed._ The texture began to vary. There were little flickers of sensation all across the surface of her hand now, nimble and varied. Smooth and coarse, slick and sharp, hot and cold, firm and delicate. None of it was intense enough to hurt, but it dug in at times, just strongly enough to suggest how it _could_ be used for pain. It seemed to zero in, over the course of several seconds, on what the skin of her palm liked best and just where it was most sensitive. Daala felt her breath picking up slightly; after three years of not being touched much at all, this was almost too much. She wondered if she should tell him to stop: they were still in a negotiation, after all. He shouldn't be giving her pleasure.

Then the sensation vanished, dissolving in a moment, as Vader withdrew his hand.

"I assure you," he purred in that deep voice of his, holding her gaze, "my suit is no impediment to my abilities."

A slight flush had risen to Daala's cheeks. She could picture, now, what sort of thing Vader must do to his lovers. What would that kind of sensation feel like all over her, inside her? Up to this point, Vader's demeanor hadn't impressed her, and she had mostly been interested because Tarkin was. But now she was very curious for her own sake. Even if Vader was a bit rude - perhaps this wasn't an experience to be missed.

She cleared her throat softly. It was important to remain in control. "So if I understand correctly, my lord, you're saying your role in these encounters is to induce sensation in your partners without touching them?"

"In essence."

"Then what do you get out of it?"

"The Force makes me aware of the minds around me." He gestured in the vague direction of her head. "I can feel when you want me and when you fear me. I can feel when you are pleased. Were you to give yourself to me, I would connect more closely to your senses. I would feel your pleasure and feel your pain, as vividly as if they were mine. That is enough to satisfy me."

Daala swallowed and nodded. "Understood, my lord."

It was unfortunate for Vader if he had to take all his pleasure secondhand. But not at all unfortunate, she couldn't help thinking, for his partners. She had no complaints about Tarkin's sexual skills, but on the rare occasions when she'd strayed to other men, many of them hadn't seemed to know or care how to satisfy her. They'd been too focused on the needs of their own bodies. At least Darth Vader wouldn't have _that_ problem.

Even before she met Vader, she'd mused that, regardless of his other flaws, sex with him would not be boring. It seemed she'd been correct.

Vader glanced sideways at Tarkin in some private amusement. "She is more thorough in her questions than you were, your first time. And she catches on more quickly."

"You and I were in a different situation, if you'll recall," said Tarkin. His gaze was fixed on Daala, thoughtful and approving.

"I will enjoy her," said Vader, and Daala straightened slightly on the couch where she sat. This was taking it too far; she hadn't actually agreed yet.

It bothered her a little less than before, though.

"My lord, we have yet to conclude the negotiations," she said. "We haven't discussed our particular kinks and our limits, for example."

Vader returned his attention to her. "Discuss them, then. What are yours?"

There was always a slight frisson of shyness, having to list these things for a new person. But Daala knew how to push through it. "I like intense sensations, my lord. I like being physically restrained. I like sex in all its standard varieties. And I like feeling that my partner is in control. Not just physically, but that he can keep things proceeding exactly as they're meant to, even if my own control falters. As for limits, most of mine are fairly usual. No lasting injury. No bodily wastes. Standard precautions against pregnancy and disease. And I won't be made to do domestic tasks. I've done enough kitchen duty for one life already."  
  


"I do not make my submissives do _work,_ " Vader agreed. He sounded even more disgusted by that last idea than she was.

"What about your own list, my lord?"

"I enjoy inflicting pain," said Vader. "I enjoy giving pleasure. I particularly enjoy the sort of mind that can fear me and want me in the same moment. I am flexible in the specifics."

There was a pause, and Tarkin stirred long enough to give Vader a sidelong, unreadable glance. "Limits, too, Vader."

"I have few." Something oddly sullen entered his tone for a moment, as if he didn't want to admit he had any. "Do not tamper with my suit. Do not repeatedly ask if something is acceptable to me; I will say yes or no correctly the first time." He paused, and then added, "And do not try to call yourself a slave."

Tarkin sat back again in his armchair; this appeared to satisfy him. "And you both already know what I like. Though, Vader - my limit around choking, that applies to her, too. Generally don't choke anybody in my presence. I'm offering you a woman who's important to me, but I'd rather not have to spend the scene wondering if you're about to murder her."

Vader sounded amused. "As you wish."

Tarkin turned to Daala. "Vader and I use the safeword 'Tatooine.' Can you remember that one?"

"Yes, sir." It wasn't a name that meant anything to her, but for a use like this, it didn't have to be.

"And Natasi and I use the standard color system. I'll be checking in with her periodically, since this is new." He favored Daala with a strangely self-assured smile. He'd noticed, she suspected, when her attitude to Vader changed from unease to cautious interest. They'd both noticed that. "Any other concerns, my dear?"

Daala looked at Vader's dark form on the chair across from her. She made herself take a last moment to think it over. She wasn't fully sure that this was a good idea, but she was _very_ curious now. And Tarkin would be right there. He wouldn't allow her to come to harm.

She took a breath, imagining Vader pressed up close to her but not quite touching, moving those strange Force sensations over her body.

"No, sir," she said. "I'm ready."

"And you, Vader?"

"I dislike delays."

"Then that's settled." He rose from his chair and extended an hand to help Daala out of her own seat. His demeanor had shifted - not dramatically, not a way that a stranger across the room might notice. But they were no longer in the negotiation phase, in which they were more or less equals, and in which everybody needed to be given space to choose for themselves. Now they were beginning something real, and he seemed to grow an inch taller as he assumed the commanding role expected of him. He kept his voice mild, but there was a cruel hunger in his eyes as he looked into hers now, undisguised. "Why don't you go and freshen up, my dear, and you can meet us in the bedroom." He gestured to indicate the door he meant, further in to the Emperors' private suite. The hint of a smile played at the edge of his lips. "I like the longer hair. Take it down."

*

The Imperial Suite's fresher was as large and luxurious as Daala had expected. She took her time. Daala always took scruplous care of her body, even when there was no one around to appreciate it, but she'd been traveling for most of today, and it was good to have a moment alone to ensure she was clean and prepared.

She was already a little wet, which surprised her. She didn't know which of them had done it - Tarkin, tantalizingly close to her again at last, or Vader with his unsettling enticements. Probably both. Daala had learned under Tarkin's care how to control herself, but she had always liked risk and power. It made her shiver a little, thinking of what she was about to do.

When her clothes were all back in place properly, she turned her attention to the room's large mirror, and she obediently undid her hair from its tight braid. Tarkin hadn't seen her with hair like this before. She'd always preferred it long, but Imperial regulations forbade that; when she'd met Tarkin, her hair had been buzzed nearly to her scalp, just like the male recruits. For years afterward, she'd kept it that way. But out in the Maw Installation, with nobody around to punish her for breaking the rule, she'd decided to grow it back out. It fell down past her shoulder blades now, a red like molten steel.

Finally she focused on her face, and she let the hold that she usually kept over her facial expressions ease.

Normally Daala worked hard not to show emotion. It was the only way to be taken seriously in an organization as sexist and discipline-obsessed as the Empire. But there were exceptions to the rule. Holding her whole face rigid during sex, she'd found, was more trouble than it was worth. So all of her lovers, even the ones she hadn't cared for overmuch, were allowed to see her feelings on her face. She suspected that was part of the appeal of being with her. Getting to slip behind the stony facade to something softer. Some men loved that sort of thing.

Vader might not care, of course, since Vader could already sense her feelings.

She wondered what she looked like to him.

She studied herself. Daala was already one of the youngest admirals in the Imperial Navy. When she relaxed her face, she looked her age even more. There was a nervous little grin on her pale lips.

She was ready for this.

*

The Imperial Palace's public-facing halls had been inky black; the Emperors' parlor was absurdly pastel. But the Imperial bedroom was different from either of these, decorated in a style so familiar that it gave Daala a sense of deja vu. Blue-gray and slate-gray and storm-gray, clean harsh lines, tidy to the point of severity; there was nothing else this could have been but Tarkin's room. On the floor by the foot of the big canopy bed she recognized the hide of a veermok: a status symbol from Tarkin's homeworld, where everyone worth knowing was a hunter. She let out a breath, relaxing slightly at the sight.

Vader was sitting at the edge of the bed, facing the door where she'd just come in, making his usual breathing sound. Tarkin was still standing, and he smiled cruelly as he saw her. Daala felt a familiar feeling wash over her; she was in his private space now. The thing she'd agreed to had already begun, and he was fully in control. She didn't have to coldly and carefully hold her own anymore; what happened now was up to him.

"Stand," said Tarkin, gesturing to a space at the corner of the bed next to the fur. Daala went and stood. She liked following orders like these, simple ones, making it so easy to do everything right. "Attention." She snapped her heels together and stood perfectly straight. She could stand utterly still like this for as long as he wished, not even a twitch in her smallest finger.

"I’ve brought you a new toy, Vader," Tarkin said, walking a half-circle around her and idly tugging at a strand of her hair. She didn't move at all. She wasn't used to being shown off like this, but after so many years of secrecy, it was a relief and a forbidden pleasure all in one. "Doesn't she carry herself well? I can put her through her poses, if you'd like to see what's on offer. Or if you'd prefer a more hands-on approach-"

Vader answered with a wave of his gloved hand. Something like an invisible vise abruptly closed around Daala's limbs. There was tight pressure around everything from the collarbones down, and she couldn't move. She felt herself tugged an inch in the air, just far enough to make it clear how easily Vader could move her, and she inhaled in surprise.

"You are mine now," said Vader in that deep voice of his. To her, not Tarkin.

"Yes, my lord," said Daala. She had already agreed, of course. This was merely confirmation.

"Then let me look at you."

Vader made another small movement with his hand, and Daala's uniform began to unbutton and peel away, as if of its own accord. Her heart beat in her throat as he stripped her one item at a time, the belt and gloves and jacket, the boots and socks, the undershirt, the trousers. It was mercilessly efficient and she still could not move a muscle, either to resist or assist. With Vader this close, she could not even fruitfully turn away. So she held his black gaze.

She had heard that Vader could move objects with his mind, but she had never seen it up close before. She had pictured steel beams flying around; she had not expected him to be so deft and careful with the small things.

"Do you like what you see, my lord?" she asked, her tone level. There was always a bit of nervousness, a new lover seeing her body for the first time, but Daala had nothing to be ashamed of. She knew the way most men looked at her.

"I do." Vader's head turned, looking her over. "But this is not only about _seeing._ "

As he spoke, he finished with her undergarments, dropping them in the pile with the rest of her uniform. He bared her breasts, smallish and firm; the whole curve of her hips, and the space between her thighs. The air felt cold on Daala's skin. Tarkin usually didn't strip her until a little later in a scene, but of course Vader's preferred order of things would be different. Despite the negotiations Vader was still very much an unknown, and she felt herself dropping towards that unknown space, like the bottom of a lift tube.

Tarkin, at her side, made a small sound - really just a sigh, but she knew that particular sigh so well that a burst of heat shot through her. It had been three years since _he'd_ seen her naked. Clearly he still liked it, too.

With an impatient flick of his fingers, Vader widened her stance, pulling her legs slightly apart. He took a step closer, but he still did not touch her. Swallowing down another flicker of nervousness, she looked upward and maintained eye contact.

"Good." Vader raised a gloved hand and held it in front of her face. "Now I will attune my senses to yours. This will not hurt, but it will feel strange."

"Yes, my lord," she said obediently.

She felt the same sensation as before, the one that he'd started with when she held out her hand. Not its full complexity, but the beginning of it, a light warm pressure, this time at the top of her head. It spread downwards an inch at a time, over her scalp and the delicate skin of her face. Over her eyelids, her ears and nose, her lips and the inside of her mouth. Her throat, which made her swallow nervously again, though it was far too gentle to be mistaken for a Force choke. To her shoulders and collarbones, and downwards.

There was no sound in the room but Vader's breath; he seemed absorbed in his task. Tarkin did not interrupt.

Sensation crawled down her arms, to her hands and fingers, where it lingered briefly. And then back to her torso, down her chest, over her ribs and her breasts. She felt goosebumps rising at the strangeness of this, so unlike the ways Daala was used to men touching her chest. It was simple and systematic, not an act of gratification but a taking of inventory.

Vader had told her he would feel her body's senses, her pleasure and her pain. She had imagined him standing there and somehow soaking up her strongest reactions at a distance, but this was more than that. This was him exploring every tactile part of her body. This was Vader preparing himself to feel _everything,_ down to the smallest detail.

She shivered slightly, trying to imagine what that would mean.

He continued down her spine, across the muscles of her back and belly. She tensed slightly, knowing what would logically come next; held in place with the Force, she couldn't even try to squirm away. Vader felt his way over the curves of her hips, down the divots at the tops of her thighs, and then the immaterial feeling of him dipped in between her legs, flowing into the crevices there, running like a gentle stream of water across her clit. He slipped over her labia, inside her, and she could not suppress a small, tight gasp. She wasn't really ready to have someone inside her, but Vader's work was so light and frictionless that, true to his promise, it didn't hurt. He moved up her inner walls, not lingering any longer than anywhere else, but efficiently mapping out where the nerves clustered.

Daala concentrated on keeping her breathing even, timing it to his. It would not do to show weakness here; in some sense he hadn't even started with his planned activities yet. She did not break eye contact.

Tarkin must do this with Vader every time they were intimate. What a strange thing to picture. She felt Tarkin's eyes on her now, even though she was looking at Vader. Was he somehow following Vader's movements, or were they invisible to him? Had he noticed the moment when Vader slipped into her, or did he have to simply look at the two of them standing together, assuming it would happen at some point?

Vader flowed back out and over her perineum, and spent a few seconds exploring her ass. And then that part of it was over, and he wasn't inside her anymore, only continuing his inventory of her senses further down, making his leisurely way down her thighs and the insides of her knees, to her ankles, to the arches of her feet. She took deep breaths. He explored every toe and the crevices between them.

And then he was done. She felt nothing on her body anymore except the air of the room and the floor under her feet, and the subtler Force restraints holding her still.

Vader could also feel those things now, through the nerves underneath her own skin. Daala felt even more naked than she'd already been. Vader was really a stranger, and from now until they were finished, everything her body felt would be entirely plain to him.

This wasn't a bad thing; it was within the bounds she'd agreed to. But it was overwhelming in the same way as being hurt or held down. By mapping her out this way, Vader had _claimed_ her, and something deep inside her surrendered in response, the same way she'd surrendered to Tarkin when she walked in the room. It no longer bothered her that she felt nervous and exposed. That was what both of them wanted her to feel, and it would all happen just as they wished.

Daala had always been able to enter a submissive headspace easily. She wondered if that, too, was a thing Vader could feel.

Vader lowered his hand.

"She is well built for this use," Vader asided to Tarkin. "Healthy, young and strong, obedient, and so interested in what is happening despite her fear. Perhaps you are the one who should be jealous."

Tarkin reached and brushed a strand of hair over Daala's ear. This was not a more intense sensation than Vader's touch, but it brought deeper emotions with it. She'd missed him so much. She wanted to lean in to him, but the Force restraints didn't allow it. "I see no reason to be jealous. You're taking my senses next, aren't you?"

Vader spoke in a superior tone, as if Tarkin had failed to consider something important. "Do you know how much sensory information there is in a whole human body? Even I could not concentrate that way on both of you at once, not if you wanted me to actively participate."

Tarkin blinked. "Oh. But I thought-"

"You have offered her to me, and I have taken her. We will see where that leads us." Vader leaned slightly, intent on them both. "Now show me what her body can feel. Play with her. I will hold her in place for you. Later, when I choose, I will interfere further."

"Ah. I see. Well, then." Tarkin, for a moment, had looked disappointed, but he recovered well. When he stepped directly in front of Daala and focused on her, his face showed nothing but hungry anticipation. "Color, my dear?"

"Green, sir." Tarkin was still fully clothed, but she could feel the warmth of his body inches from her; she could smell the faint linen scent of his Imperial robes.

Tarkin glanced over at Vader for a moment. He looked like he was turning this scenario over in his mind. "What sort of play? Pleasure or pain?"

"Pleasure first," said Vader.

The ghost of a smile flitted over Tarkin's face at that. He threaded his hand through Daala's hair and leaned in to brush her lips with his.

It was different from when they'd kissed in the hallway. She was that much readier for him now, that much more hyperaware of what her body felt. He was astonishingly gentle at first, so light that she barely felt it. She pressed forward into it as much as the Force restraints allowed, which was not very; she couldn't wrap her arms around him like this, couldn't writhe. But he responded, moving in so close that the soft fabric of his robes settled in against her nakedness. His tongue flicked against her lips. His fingers moved strokingly in her hair, and his other hand clutched her close by the waist.

Vader's breath still echoed in the room, but for an uncountable sequence of moments, Daala couldn't have thought about him if she'd tried. There was just her and Tarkin. He had her where he wanted her, and that was the whole world.

Eventually Tarkin came up for air and began to explore further, recalling the little preliminary pleasures she liked best. He kissed down the line of her jaw to her ear, and attended to that for a while, nibbling at the crevices of it, sucking the lobe. He was very thorough. Under the ear his mouth found the crook of her neck, and he grazed the skin there with his teeth, and then paused.

"But when you say _first,_ " he murmured into her skin, and she remembered that he wasn't talking to her. It was all right; she could be still and quiet when instructed. What mattered was that she had him here, doing as he pleased with her. "A little pain wouldn't go amiss, would it? In a body that enjoys such things?"

"It would not," said Vader, after a short pause.

"Well, then," Tarkin said, and he tightened his grip in Daala's hair, yanking her head back.

He sank his teeth into the crook of her neck where he'd kissed her before, hard enough that it might bruise. She hissed her breath out, resisting the urge to keen. She loved when he was rough with her, the hunter's instincts coming out to play alongside the commander's colder urges.

"How was that?" he asked as he let go.

"Sir," she panted. "Yes-"

But he wasn't talking to her.

"That," said Vader, "was not uninteresting."

"Oh, _good,_ " Tarkin purred, with a widening smile. He bit back down.

In the fragments of thought left to her in between his attentions, Daala was beginning to work out what was going on here. Tarkin's gift to Vader wasn't only a new partner, but a whole new set of senses. She didn't know what Vader's body was like under that suit, but she knew how Tarkin liked to have an effect on his partners. Maybe he had some way of touching Vader's skin when they were alone together, but it couldn't be easy to do, nor uncomplicated. But with a willing third party involved, Tarkin could visit pleasure and pain on Vader in a whole new way. He could love her and hurt _her,_ and Vader would feel every brush of his lips, every pinch of his teeth. Judging from that smile, he'd wanted to do this for a long time.

And Vader had deliberately set the scene up to allow it. He'd had his choice of whose senses to share; he could have picked Tarkin's. They were both dominants, after all. Vader could have ridden in Tarkin's body and felt secondhand what it was like to ravish a willing woman like Daala, skin to skin. But he'd chosen Daala's senses. Whether out of curiosity or envy or a secret submission of his own, Vader wanted to feel Tarkin make love to him this way.

This was between the two of them, and she was only its vessel. The lucky one who got to feel all of it, without having to do a thing.

Tarkin raked his nails across her back and clenched his fist in her hair. In between bites he used his lips and his tongue, as gentle as before, soothing and teasing along the places where he'd hurt her a moment before. She still couldn't even writhe, except with the movements of her head and the silent contortions of her face, but she was beginning now to make small noises, urging him on.

Out of the corner of her eye, she snuck a glance at Vader. Now that she'd worked out his real role in this, she couldn't stop thinking about it. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, motionless and apparently relaxed. His masked face was turned towards the two of them, and his hand rested casually on his thigh.

She imagined what it would look like if he moved that hand just slightly, if he somehow slipped it under the rigid armor at his groin to stroke himself while he watched. She wasn't even sure if that was physically possible. Was there anything to stroke? She wanted to imagine a thick cock trapped under there, as heavy and imposing as the rest of him. Maybe he'd come when she did, spilling warmly into his armor. Or maybe not - maybe the pleasure he took from her stayed with her, and his own body was inert. He had deliberately avoided any mention of how that side of it worked for him. She suspected that he did not want her to know.

Tarkin trailed one hand down the side of her breast, cupped it slightly. "I always wondered, Vader. Is it strange for you sharing senses with women?"

"No," Vader said. "As with pain, it is about what a given body enjoys. I am not a woman, but _she_ knows she is meant to be shaped that way."

"Convenient," said Tarkin. And then he took the whole breast in his hand. He drew two fingers together and pinched her nipple hard between them. While he played with her like that he leaned in, smiling knowingly. He had not taken his eyes far from Daala's face throughout any of this, but for the first time in several minutes he now spoke directly to her. "I see you stealing glances at him. You like this, don't you? You like having him here."

"Yes, sir," she said, breathless.

He kissed her again, and with one hand, he trailed the lightest fingertip between her legs, across her core.

She gasped slightly, closing her eyes. She was terribly wet and ready for him. She knew he wouldn't yet, at a time like this he'd have many other wonderful and terrible things that he wanted to do first, but she wanted him to prop her up somewhere and fuck her properly. Let Vader feel how he moved hard and merciless inside her.

"You minx," Tarkin murmured approvingly, taking his time before he drew his fingertip away. "You do like this." He looked up and toward Vader again. "As it happens, Vader, there's a thing I've always wished I could do to you. Put her down on the bed, won't you? On her back."

Daala felt herself swiftly pulled backwards. She landed heavily on the bedspread, letting out a startled breath. This was different from the kinds of bondage she'd done before. She couldn't move at all below the neck, but Vader could move her whole body so effortlessly. She felt like a doll being posed.

Tarkin looked at her with a critical eye. He made a few small directing motions with his hands. "Closer to the edge of the bed. And part her legs. Color, my dear?"

"Green, sir," she said eagerly, realizing what he had planned.

When she'd been repositioned to his liking, he knelt on the veermok hide by the foot of the bed, and he gently put his mouth to her inner thigh. He took his time, kissing his way inward, until his lips brushed her labia. She let out another, harder gasp at the feeling. With the flat of his tongue, he trailed his way along her slit and kissed at the swollen folds of her, teasing at them, nothing too direct yet. Tarkin didn't often do this without hurting her first, but oh, how she loved it.

Anchoring himself with a hand at her hip, he leaned forward and moved further in. He paid attention to her whole cunt, tasting each part of it in turn, taking her labia lightly between his teeth. When at last his tongue brushed directly over her clit, she arched her head back, reveling in the bright jolt of it.

For a second there was a strange absence of sensation anywhere else besides her cunt; the Force grip around her felt as though it had vanished. Then it redoubled, and Vader greedily pushed her legs further up and apart. _Vader_ liked this, hah.

Tarkin made a soft amused noise and kept going.  
  


Daala was only a vessel, but she did not feel less herself. The sensations were not muffled or halved; she did not feel a second presence under her skin. The pleasure was as vivid as always as it passed through her, funneling in to whatever part of Vader's mind enjoyed it. Maybe even more vivid than usual; it had been a long time. Three years of pent-up longing had sensitized her.

It did not take Tarkin long to find the particular rhythm she'd always liked best, and he kept at it steadily. Sounds started to escape her throat without conscious intent, small moans and mutterings of pleasure.

It was only a few minutes before she felt her peak nearing. Not that she expected to get there; Tarkin liked to tease. But she wanted it anyway; she always wanted it. She leaned into that desire, feeling her breath speed, feeling the way the steady movement of his tongue filled her nerves up fuller and fuller. She was so close, she was almost there, she was-

He gave a final short kiss, and then he straightened and stood back up, leaving her gasping with need. He calmly dried his face with a handkerchief. "That's enough for now."

Daala smiled to herself, frustrated but amused. It would take more than this to make her desperate. Sometimes Tarkin kept her at the edge long enough that she did whine and plead. Sometimes he made her do things, prove herself, before she could have it. Sometimes he just wanted to watch her beg. Sometimes he kept on until she reached a point beyond begging, a kind of surrender, knowing as immutable fact that she would feel only the things he chose for her to feel. When he did bring her off, some unmeasured amount of time later, it was that much more spectacular.

It was Vader who objected. He stepped forward, suddenly towering over Tarkin. "What do you think you are doing?"

"You know what," said Tarkin, unruffled. "Not all of us like to grasp straight for the endpoint right away. Besides, you haven't yet seen her full range. What would you like to do next?"

" _You_ know how I feel about _delays,_ " Vader growled.

What a tableau this was, Daala thought, fuzzy with pleasure. Normally no one spoke like this to Tarkin; normally everyone was a little bit afraid of him. And of course everyone was a lot afraid of Vader. But Tarkin wasn't. He stood his ground, haughty and unmoved. She loved that about him.

She wasn't sure what prompted her to interrupt.

" _I_ like to be teased, my lord," she said sweetly. "I thought this was about you enjoying the things that I enjoy, secondhand?"

"Careful, dear," Tarkin murmured, but he sounded more amused than alarmed. Daala knew him well enough to infer what he meant. _Don't be a brat to Emperor Vader,_ she imagined him saying in that tone. _He_ will _push back._

Vader stalked his way up beside the bed and looked directly down at her. "It is not so simple as that. But if Tarkin will not satisfy me, perhaps I should take control of you myself. Do you want to see what _I_ can do to you?"

He held out a gloved hand over her body, and she remembered what he'd done to her before the scene began. She shivered, looking up at that dark mask with a heady mix of fear and delight. "Yes, my lord."

Vader moved his hand slightly, and she felt him touching her with the Force again, a simple warm pressure which rapidly expanded into its other forms. This time it started between her collarbones, sending out tendrils of sensation from there. It bit down harder than in the first demonstration, like claws flashing hot and cold, wrapping around her ribs and digging greedily into her breasts. She made a small sound. This hurt, but it was a good kind of pain.

It was good, but it bore almost no resemblance to anything she'd felt before. Daala could be beaten or bitten, pinched or pierced or even shocked - but the Force wasn't quite like any of those things. She turned her head to look down at her body, but it looked untouched, and she couldn't quite work out what object or creature she wanted to picture there. It would look like something seen through a kaleidoscope, she thought. Like a dream.

Tarkin leaned slightly against the bed next to Vader, watching closely. "Tell me what you're doing to her."

"Not yet," said Vader. "You are the one who wants delayed gratification. Go disrobe yourself, then return."

"If you like," said Tarkin, diffident. Daala wondered again which of them was really in control. Vader clearly felt comfortable giving orders, and Tarkin had obeyed this one, but his manner of obeying didn't look like any form of submission she was used to. He wandered to the corner of the room, and Daala craned her neck, but she couldn't see, only hear the rustle as he started to remove those elaborate Imperial robes.

She hadn't seen him naked in three years, but she remembered the whipcord litheness of him, the stark pattern of scars over his body, the elegant line of his cock. She wanted to see.

Something abruptly smacked her face, and she squeaked, reflexively turning to look back up at Vader again. _That_ one had been so realistic that it took a half-second to realize it was the Force and not his hand.

"You are mine now," said Vader, the hint of a threat in his deep voice. "You will look at _me._ "

Daala took a shallow breath. The twining Force shape seemed to dig its way deeper, down into the muscles themselves. Its edges slithered all the way around to her back, biting into her shoulder blades. She wasn't sure how to picture what this thing ought to look like, but she knew it had _claws._

"Yes, my lord," she answered.

In response she felt something he might have meant as a reward, a flickering of lighter, more pleasant sensation. Warm and gentle tendrils, twining up her inner thighs before they teasingly disappeared.

Tarkin wasn't the only one, it seemed, who could tease. But Vader had to do it his own way.

He hadn't bothered to move her from her current position, flat on her back, knees tucked up and parted. She knew very well what he wanted. What he'd get to in his own time, presumably quicker than Tarkin's. Her body already craved it. What would it feel like? Just as strange as the rest of this, she suspected. Unlike any of what she'd had before. But first he was going to mark his territory, make his point.

Tarkin was still at the other side of the room, making those rustling sounds. Daala made an effort not to look at him.

"Good," said Vader. "I have you, and I will do as I please."

And then the Force-thing that had twined around her began to _pulse._

It was harsh and rhythmic, like impact play. It was hard to describe. It had a little of the momentum of impact, but there was also a warmth, and it seemed to come from the invisible claws that were already under her skin. She whimpered, surprised by the first few, and then she concentrated on breathing, as deeply as the constriction around her chest allowed, and taking it with grace.

This was more pain than before, but she could take it; the intensity was well within her usual limits. It only felt difficult, because she was over-sensitized and out of practice, and because it was so different from what she'd had before. If she concentrated, she could do this for a long time.

And it was not a bad thing to do for a long time, if that was what Vader wanted. Daala knew how to coast on a slow tide of pain and arousal, how to float in the midst of it all. Pain like this, from the right sort of partner, was a drug of sorts, and she'd missed it.

Tarkin walked back to them from the corner of the room. His steps, barefoot, were quieter now. He climbed up on the bed and perched a foot or two away, and even knowing she might be slapped for it again, Daala couldn't help sneaking a glance at him. Tarkin's nude body was much as she remembered, long and wiry, deceptively narrow muscles over a bony frame. His pale skin was criscrossed with its familiar battle scars. She longed to touch that skin - later, she told herself sternly. Later when she didn't have another job to do. His cock stood out, hard and flushed; his blue-gray eyes darkened as he looked down at her in approval.

She let herself drink in the sight of him for less than a second before she forced her gaze back to Vader's mask.

"Good," said Vader. He didn't slap her face again, but there was a much harder pulse than the ones before, making her jerk in place and cry out.

The tone of Tarkin's voice matched the expression on his face, arousal and cruel fascination. "Words, Vader. I can't see what you're doing. Though it seems to be going rather well."

"I am hurting her," Vader replied. "I have dug my claws in under her skin. I have found the kind of pain she likes, and now I am giving it to her, again and again. She takes it well. She could take much more. Couldn't you?"

"I - yes, my lord."

"I'd rather we not try to break her on the first go-round," said Tarkin thoughtfully. "This is all new for her, remember. But there's nothing wrong with exploring. May I touch her?"

That question was simple politeness, not deference; there were circumstances in which a submissive's ordeal ought not to be interrupted. But he already felt like a part of this, and she wanted him to touch her. She wanted them both at once, together.

"Touch her if you wish," said Vader, "but do not interfere."

Tarkin reached up and threaded his fingers lazily into her hair. She arched slightly into it, but kept her eyes on Vader.

"You're being so good," he murmured. "Look at you, taking him. It isn't like anything else, is it?"

"No, sir," she whispered, concentrating on her breath. How delightfully strange, to imagine how many times Tarkin himself must have lain under Vader feeling something like this. He would not have tried to be good, of course. She'd never watched Tarkin take a beating, but she knew that he liked to take one every once in a while, even if he wasn't a submissive in the usual sense. He saw it as a challenge. He wanted to prove he was strong enough to endure. Sometime perhaps it would be nice to switch places, to perch on the bed next to him and Vader and watch how he proved just that.

Daala had nothing like that to prove for herself. That wasn't what she got out of submitting. She just wanted to feel something intense enough to thrill her, to be desired and claimed, and to please them. To please Tarkin, most of all.

The strange lattice of Force-energy moved this way and that as it pulsed, settling in to the idiosyncracies of her own nerves. Like a clever masseuse, finding the little spots that craved its biting pressure and heat the most. And the reverse - sometimes it clawed in with sadistic precision to the little spots where she _didn't_ want to be hit, crevices between muscles where she was sore or over-sensitive. It found a small spot like that now, piercing a knot between her shoulder blades that she hadn't even realized was there, and she couldn't help but make a startled noise.

"Now," said Vader, "I will increase the power."

Daala nodded, deliberately relaxing herself against it. "Yes, my lord."

The pain began to steadily increase. She took a few deep, shuddering breaths. She could do this if she concentrated, if she focused in exactly the way she'd been taught. The pulses began to feel like real impacts, terrible sharp ones, and she let out another whimper.

Tarkin watcher her carefully, a steadying hand in her hair. She could _feel_ his gaze, even if she wasn't allowed to look back. She could see the vague shape of his body at the edge of her peripheral vision. There was a lazy motion in it now; with his other hand, he was slowly stroking himself as he watched her suffer. They were _cruel,_ these men. She loved it about them.

"Focus on me," Vader commanded. "I want you to feel all this pain fully. I want you to thank me for it."

Something deep inside her twitched with pleasure. Daala enjoyed being treated this way in a scene - not as a flawed thing that deserved to be hurt, but as a partner valued _because_ of how well she could take pain, because of how she loved it. But it took effort to get the proper words out. "T-thank you. My lord."

"Tell me what you are thanking me for."

"For making me feel - something new - _ah!_ "

He had hit her hard enough that she had to cry out, and now she couldn't quite catch her breath. She couldn't put the rest of the words together. She was mortified with herself. She _could_ take more; she remembered being able to do that. Three years ago she'd been able to take much more. But Vader's way of doing things was new and different, and _Vader_ was new and different, and she was out of practice at taking things like this, and-

And if he hit her like that just a few more times, she might burst into tears.

It took more than this, normally, before she reached that point. But she recognized what the tears felt like when they were almost there, looming, about to burst through.

She did not want to cry in front of Darth Vader.

Tarkin's fingers moved lightly in her hair. "Breathe," he murmured.

Daala's whole way of going about life, at work and in the public sphere, depended on not showing emotion. She didn't hold herself to that standard for her lovers. But there were some things she wouldn't do for anyone but Tarkin. Sometimes Tarkin drove her to tears on purpose - sometimes that kind of catharsis was the point. But there was no way she would trust anyone but him with that part of her heart. She would _not_ cry for Vader, not even if that was what he wanted from her, not even if Tarkin didn't mind.

She opened her mouth to say _yellow,_ but before she could form the word, Vader withdrew. The pain ebbed, not all the way, but back to the easily tolerable level where it had started.

Of course, Daala thought, dazed. He read minds.

She breathed - it was easier now. She steadied herself.

"Tell me a color," said Vader.

Some time she would have to ask Tarkin about how this worked for Vader, which niceties of kink etiquette he actually had to observe and which were rendered unnecessary by his Force senses. But he had asked aloud, so she would answer properly. "That was yellow for a moment, my lord," she answered. "Just the strongest part. It was a bit too strong; I'm more out of practice at this than I thought. I'm fine now."

He loomed over her, turning his head in thought, and it struck her then that she wasn't only a vessel, after all. Perhaps her role had been more than that all along. Vader had her helpless, but he wasn't only enjoying her body. To some extent, through some means she could only guess at, he also was focused on her mind. How she wanted him, how she thought about him, even when she had the passive role. All those little feelings that she had during the scene mattered too, because he sensed them directly. For him they must be another form of pleasure.

"That was only a fraction of my power," said Vader.

Daala made a small, acknowledging noise. It was a clumsy boast - she was sure Tarkin must be critiquing Vader's verbal technique in his head - but it had truth behind it. She had always loved power. She had wanted someone powerful, someone dangerous, to want her.

She felt that other version of Vader's Force-touch, the gentler version, twining softly and surely up her legs again. He brushed against the surface of her cunt, lightly, silently, and if she could move her hips at all she would have writhed and ground against him, demanding more.

"You want me inside you," Vader purred. "Don't you?"

"Yes, my lord." She had not quite been able to catch her breath. "Please."

This had more of an effect than she'd expected it to have. Vader looked over at Tarkin, and for a moment she worried that she'd said the wrong thing, but when he spoke there was dark delight in that deep voice. "She _begs._ "

Tarkin responded with fond pride. "If you work her up to it correctly, yes."

" _You_ never beg."

"Then isn't it fortunate you have more than one of us?" Tarkin took his hand out of her hair, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him unfold himself from where he'd been sitting beside her, turning his attention more to Vader. "That's one of the advantages of this sort of arrangement. If you want to fuck her now, I had several ideas as to how that could go. What if you picked one hole, and I-"

"No," said Vader abruptly.

Daala inferred, more than saw, Tarkin's raised eyebrow. "No?"

She heard the slide of the sheets under Tarkin's body as Vader Force-pushed him several feet away.

"You have failed to understand your own offer," said Vader. "You brought this woman to Coruscant without first asking permission. You wanted us both to continue as your lovers. And when I became _understandably_ jealous, you offered her up as a gift to placate me. I accept the gift. Later I will let her be yours. Tonight she is _mine,_ because _you_ said so. And I will make you face me and watch as I take your pretty young lover for myself. I will make you watch her beg for me."

Daala turned her head to look at Tarkin, alarmed. This was not quite where she had thought things stood emotionally. If she wasn't already in such a haze of pain and pleasure, she ought to have done some thinking about that, re-evaluated her own choices. She didn't quite have the mental clarity to do that right now. But she had enough to check to see if Tarkin agreed.

She had to crane her neck uncomfortably far to see him, but she could see him, and Vader didn't slap her for it this time. Tarkin stood on the floor next to the bed now. His hands were behind his back and his posture was slightly strange, as if Vader had pulled him into that position unwillingly. His face was fixed in a superior, long-suffering expression. He did not look distraught, only mildly annoyed. "If that's how you'd prefer to work your feelings out, I suppose. Though it's childish-"

"Be silent," said Vader, and Tarkin shut his mouth.

Vader turned Daala's face back toward him with a gentle pull. She stared up at into the red-black lenses that covered his eyes. It was so difficult to read him. How much of this was spiteful anger at Tarkin? How much of it was genuine lust for her? She wanted him to want her. She wanted to be a thing that pleased him, not a thing he used to hurt his other lover.

The Force rippled against her like the surface of water, lapped against her clit. She made a small, high-pitched noise.

"Beg me again," Vader commanded.

She knew what this was - both sides at once. Vader wanted it to be a torment for Tarkin, but he _did_ like begging for its own sake. That had been clear enough a moment ago. And it was easy to beg for a thing like this, a thing she instinctively wanted.

"Please," she whispered.

"Please what?" he asked, implacable.

"Please, I want you inside me." She leaned into the slight breathlessness she still felt. "I want you to fuck me, my lord. I want so much to know what that feels like."

He leaned further over her. His touch was stronger now, swirling over her until she could barely think, and his voice became a growl. "Say my name."

"Please, Lord Vader." She swallowed hard. " _Emperor_ Vader. Please."

In an instant, he shoved his way in.

Daala cried out, her head arcing back against the bedspread. Stars, it had been _so_ long since anyone did this to her. The Force-thing inside her didn't hurt, but it was thick and intense, claiming all the space it could. It pressed up firmly against all the most sensitive spots - there was something still slightly amorphous about this, still not quite the shape of a real cock, but before she could think too hard about that, it had already started to move in her, in and out, a hard rhythm.

He had her. His hulking body and his black mask loomed over her; his breath echoed in her ears. Force or not, this was undeniably _him,_ using her body as men did, greedily having his fill of her. And hurting her - that lattice of strange claws and tendrils had started to move around her again, not as harshly as before but insistent, beginning to pulse in synchrony with his savage pleasure. Something else, something that had remained soft and gentle, teased at her clit.

"Yes," she murmured, barely coherent, her eyelids fluttering. "Please - yes."

She expected Vader to talk more, to rub this in Tarkin's face a little harder. But he was absorbed in his task; and perhaps narrating it for Tarkin would not have served his purpose. He hurt her and fucked her for minutes her mind was too addled to count, and he was silent except for the continual rasp of his breath. Broken encouragements came out of her mouth now and then, _yes_ and _stars_ and _please_. He did not respond.

She didn't mind very much. Daala still wanted Tarkin, and she knew she'd have him later. But this was now, not later, and for right now she wanted more of Vader _._ More of this thing he was doing to her. Yes.

She felt the climax sneaking up on her, everything inside starting to curl in on itself in readiness. "Please," she murmured again. She suspected that Vader would not tease her, not now. He might make her beg, but then he'd let her _have_ it, because he wanted it as much as her, or even more. "Please, yes, like that, Lord Vader, _please-_ "

He kept right on going the same as before. She counted thrusts in her head, three, four, five. And then her own orgasm crashed through her, long and deep and shuddering. She cried out wordlessly, her body clenching around the half-real thing that moved inside her. It took a long time to die down, a series of rolling shivers and aftershocks that melted every prior bit of tension away.

She could _almost_ have sworn that she heard an answering growl from Vader, deep and bestial, precisely in time with hers.

The strange clawed lattice around her melted away. The thing between her legs dissolved to nothing, quickly and easily. Vader was still holding her in place, but he eased his grip, and her thighs twinged as he lowered them into a more natural position. She breathed deeply, exhilarated and pleased.

Tarkin spoke up from across the room before either she or Vader could come up with coherent words. His voice was unruffled, playful; if this display had distressed him, he showed no sign. "She can go again, you know."

"I told you to be silent."

"And I was, until you finished. You made your point quite well; you did all the things you said you'd do. And it made for an arresting sight. I enjoyed that. But if you continued your fit of pique, you'd eventually reach the point where you're only denying yourself to spite me. Wouldn't it be even better if you didn't have to do all the work?"

Vader's shoulders hunched slightly, and Daala silently marveled at the exchange. She recognized this tactic; Tarkin used it with her, too, in her more unreasonable moods. He had waited out Vader's initial burst of temper, had let him vent in ways that didn't do much harm, and now that Vader was a calmer in the afterglow, Tarkin remained in the position he'd been in before. Unruffled, unabashed, even charmed by the spectacle. His own demands, stated calmly and coolly, had not changed.

Vader was big and powerful, and he knew how to throw his weight around. But Tarkin was the one who held the reins here.

"Fine," Vader growled at last, stepping back. "But you had better do it _well._ "

He abruptly flipped Daala over, rolling her onto her belly, so that her hips lay flush with the edge of the bed. He turned her face away from Tarkin's side of the room. It was an implied compromise. Tarkin could fuck her - she felt a new rush of warmth at this thought. She could have that at last, so long as she did not look at him. That was easy compared to the other things she'd just done.

There was the soft sound of a drawer opening and Tarkin picking something from inside; he tore open the small packet of a condom and put it on while he talked. "I knew you'd be reasonable," he said, as superior and unruffled as before. "Sit, won't you? There."

Vader sat down on the bed a foot or two away from where Daala lay, and Tarkin approached, his bare feet padding almost inaudibly on the floor. He placed a steadying hand on Daala's hip, stroking the skin. It occurred to her that the aftermath of Force pain was very different from the aftermath of ordinary sadomasochism. She was used to gloriously sore muscles after a good session, raw and hypersensitized skin, but she felt none of that now. Her body was satisfied, but the pain had vanished as quickly and fully as a dream.

"You're ready, my dear?" he murmured.

"Please, yes, sir," she answered, sleepy, momentarily forgetting that Vader was the one who'd wanted begging.

It was a sign of Tarkin's own intense need, despite the outward nonchalance, that he didn't delay any further. The tip of his cock nudged her entrance, and then he sank in, smooth and sure. She tightened around him, briefly overwhelmed. This was gentler than what Vader had put inside her, but it was _precisely_ the shape she remembered, precisely the way she remembered him moving. This was ingrained into her senses; she didn't have to look up into his eyes to know bone-deep that she was his again at last.

Tarkin let out a soft, ragged sigh. "My dear," he murmured, his hands playing over her body. Real solid hands, warm hands with a shape she understood. "I've missed you so much."

What did Vader think of all these emotions? Did it hurt him to feel them secondhand, jealous as he was? She couldn't know. She couldn't help feeling what she felt. Vader had been exciting, but she couldn't help loving and knowing Tarkin with her whole heart.

Vader's breath filled the air around them as Tarkin began to move inside her. Vader's Force-touch moved over her again, more lightly than before, nothing painful this time. It swirled over her breasts, slipping in where they were pressed against the bedspread; down her ribs and belly and the creases of her hips; it found her clit again, still tender from the last peak, and applied the lightest, sweetest pressure.

At around the same moment, Tarkin reached in for her clit with one hand, only to have it Force-pushed back down to the bedspread. "Leave that to me," said Vader.

Tarkin didn't stop moving, but his voice was arch. "You said you wanted me to make it good."

He had, but Daala thought she knew why he'd changed his mind. More than he wanted Tarkin to pleasure him, Vader wanted most of all to know that he was involved, that his role mattered. That, even though he'd spitefully shut Tarkin out a moment ago, he was not being shut out in return.

Daala could sympathize. She'd felt a shadow of that feeling herself earlier today, when she'd re-entered civilization and seen the broadcast of Vader and Tarkin's coronation, when she'd realized that the two of them had become lovers in her absence. She had immediately been full of fear as to what this meant for her. Daala was neither monogamous nor the jealous type, but she had wanted so urgently not to have been left behind.

"It's better when it's both of you," she assured him.

It was no mere flattery. She had wanted to feel both of them together, and now she had that. Vader's grip around her body pleasantly tightened. She squeezed hard, in turn, at Tarkin's cock as it moved inside her, knowing Vader still felt what she felt, wanting to wring out every drop of sensation for him. They flowed over each other as they moved, Tarkin grasping her hips and beginning to thrust more urgently, Vader flowing and grasping all over her, both of them taking pleasure where it mattered the most.

"I've got you," Tarkin murmured, his breath already rapid and shallow - oh, he'd been _far_ more on edge than he pretended. "I've got you both."

She closed her eyes and lost herself in them.

It was easy to imagine that the two of them were one thing, one paradoxical creature having its way with her, familiar and new. Vader matched Tarkin's pace precisely, speeding when he sped, slowing when he slowed. He gripped her with something very much like a clawed hand, her breast or her shoulder or her hair, as Tarkin's hands at her hips clenched. Tarkin picked up speed, sharp and precise as his hips impacted hers again and again, panting in earnest against Vader's louder, stranger breath, and-

And she was coming again, crying out, her inner walls trembing around him. It was always easier the second time. She wasn't even sure which of them had done it to her.

"Sir," she gasped into the bedsheets.

Tarkin slowed abruptly, his breath hitching, and Daala realized he must have been very close himself; he was teasing himself now, not her. After all this buildup, he didn't want to be finished with the act too quickly. He was the sort of man who wanted to be better than that.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

She wasn't sure who he was asking. She wasn't sure she had words left to answer. She wanted as much of this as she could stand.

"Keep going," Vader growled.

"I ought not to," Tarkin murmured raggedly, his fingers digging into Daala's hip. "Just to pay you back for your cheek, I ought to-"

But Daala squeezed at him harder just then, full of mischief, and he made a small sound and forgot what he was going to say. He pushed into her, twice, a third time, and then with a hard twitch and a sharp, huffed-out breath, he came inside her.

Vader released his grip on Daala a moment later, as Tarkin steadied himself against the bed and panted to catch his breath. She used her new freedom to wriggle against him, drawing out a few last delicious bursts of friction, dizzy with endorphins. But he pulled out of her soon enough, and she curled up into a more comfortable position on the bedspread. Her limbs felt pleasantly heavy, more relaxed than they'd been in ages, and there wasn't much further need to move.

Tarkin, after a moment, crawled up to sit properly beside her and tugged her upward, letting her sit between his thighs and lean on him. He wrapped one arm around her, and her head lolled against the crook of he shoulder. Tarkin liked to cuddle only in limited amounts. In a few minutes he would start to fuss around wanting to clean up, wanting to ensure she had the kind of aftercare that brought her fully back to reality. But first he would give her just a little time to savor this.

"You see, Vader?" Tarkin murmured. "When you share your toys, you can have more of them."

"That is one consolation," Vader murmured back. "I may need it again."

Daala noticed belatedly that Tarkin was holding on to Vader, too. As she leaned on him, he leaned back lightly against Vader's side. With the hand that wasn't holding her close, he had lightly clasped one of Vader's big, gloved hands. She'd seen them hold hands briefly at the coronation, but she had not seen them do this in person - it was the first physical contact they'd made tonight at all.

She had a feeling that, if she were to reach out and try to join her hand with theirs, it would not be welcomed. That was all right. If Vader wanted to keep her around, then perhaps it was something they could work up to in time.

Tarkin's chest slightly rose and fell against her back. Vader's breath hissed in and out in its own rhythm. Everything was different now; and maybe that suited Natasi Daala just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Rejected tags: "in which darth vader steals your girlfriend," "anakin skywalker is a jealous little bitch," "two evil boyfriends for the price of one," "this threesome will definitely solve our relationship problems"
> 
> Comments are love <3


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